The Last Waltz
by xxLittle Black Dressxx
Summary: Eleven Thanksgivings, eleven birthdays, eleven Christmases. That's how he once described his and Addison's marriage. But Valentine's Day? There's a reason he didn't mention it.


A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate! Usually, I'm not a huge Valentine's Day fan, but not for the obvious reasons. My birthday is very close to Valentine's Day, which tends to make making birthday plans a much bigger hassle than necessary. That being said, I'm happy to use Valentine's Day as an excuse to write an Addek story. I hope you like it. And thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **The Last Waltz**

 _I had the last waltz with you.  
_ _Two lonely people together.  
_ _I fell in love with you.  
_ _The last waltz should last forever._

 _-Engelbert Humperdinck, "The Last Waltz"_

Eleven Thanksgivings, eleven birthdays, eleven Christmases. That's how he once described his and Addison's marriage to Meredith. In terms of holidays.

Thanksgiving because it's the ultimate family holiday. No gifts, no decorations—just food and family.

Birthdays because who doesn't love celebrating birthdays … especially her twenty-ninth over and over again.

And Christmas because it was their season. And anyone who spent even a little time around him and Addison knew that.

Thanksgivings, birthdays, Christmases—all great holidays. All days he associates with Addison.

But all very safe holidays.

What he didn't mention to Meredith—what he didn't dare mention—was Valentine's Day. Eleven-plus Valentine's Days with Addison.

He did this intentionally, of course.

He was still pursuing Meredith, and he hardly thought that mentioning all the Valentine's Days that he and Addison had shared would help his chances.

But mostly because Valentine's Day is different. Valentine's Day cuts deep. Valentine's Day is profoundly personal.

And he and Meredith weren't there yet … not even close.

Of course, it had only taken him and Addison six months to get there. But then again, they were young. He hadn't had his heart broken yet. Or if he had, it was nothing compared to what he now knows as heartbreak. So, it made sense that he and Addison moved quickly. At least, that's how he's been rationalizing it to himself.

But, still, he told Addison about Valentine's Day right away.

...

" _Do you want to go candy shopping with me?"_

 _Addison looks up at her boyfriend of six months in confusion. "Who are you getting candy for?"_

" _My mom. My sisters. You … if you want. It's for Valentine's Day," Derek explains. "I do it every year."_

" _Really?" Addison asks in surprise, her voice soft. She detects the catch in her boyfriend's voice and knows she has to let him share whatever he wants to share at his own pace. "Every year?"_

 _Derek nods. "Growing up, money was kind of tight for my parents … you know, with five kids and all." A small smile comes to his face. "But not on Valentine's Day." He moves to the couch and motions for her to join him. "On Valentine's Day, money wasn't an object. My dad bought my mom every chocolate imaginable. And dozens and dozens of roses. He bought my sisters chocolate too. And for a couple of years … towards the end … he let me go shopping with him and help pick out stuff."_

 _Addison swallows thickly, caressing Derek's cheek with her hand._

" _After he … after he died, it felt important to continue making Valentine's Day special for my mom and sisters. So, I send them stuff every year."_

" _That's really sweet, Derek." She leans in and kisses him tenderly. "I'd love to go candy shopping with you."_

" _Really?"_

 _Addison smiles, taking in the way her boyfriend's eye sparkle. Here he is sharing one of his most meaningful holiday traditions with her … and_ _he's asking her to take part in it._

" _Addie?" Derek prompts, when she meets his question with silence. "You really want to go?"_

" _I really want to go," Addison smiles. She leans in and kisses him again. "I never thought I'd say this, but let's go Valentine's Day shopping for other women."_

 _They return hours later with several bags full of chocolate._

" _Okay, so who gets what?" Addison asks as they lay the chocolate out on the kitchen table._

" _Well my mom gets the heart," Derek says, picking up the red, heart-shaped box, filled with assorted chocolates._

" _Okay." She gestures to a box of chocolate, wrapped in silver paper. "Who gets this one?"_

" _Let's see." He picks up the box and examines it. "Plain, milk chocolate. That's for Nancy, my oldest sister. Because she's as plain and straight-laced as the come."_

" _Derek!" Addison laughs. "I haven't met your sisters yet. Do you really want my first impression of them to be based on the type of chocolate you associate them with?"_

 _Derek deliberates this for a moment. "Yeah, actually." He meets his girlfriend's eyes and smirks. "My sisters are a lot to handle, and any prior knowledge you can get will only help you when you meet them."_

" _My brother is a lot to handle," Addison counters. "Should I have come up with a candy equivalent for him before I introduced you?"_

 _Derek laughs. "Your brother's reputation precedes him."_

 _That was perfectly true. Everyone at Columbia Med. School knew about Archer Montgomery. He had built quite the reputation for himself. According to his professors, he was a promising student (until they met Addison and realized she was the more promising student). According to the women he hadn't slept with, he was a rich, handsome, charming soon-to-be doctor. And according to the women he had slept with (and naturally didn't call back), he was an arrogant jerk._

 _But to Derek, Archer would always be Addison's pain-in-the-ass brother … who reminded him every chance he could that he would never be good enough for his baby sister._

" _I guess Archer would be one of those Atomic Fireball candies," Addison says, cutting into Derek's thoughts._

" _More like a Milk Dud," Derek mutters._

" _Hey!" Addison scolds, playfully smacking her boyfriend's shoulder._

" _What?" Derek shrugs, feigning innocence. "I'm just calling it like I see it." He offers his girlfriend his most charming smile. "Should we continue with my sisters?"_

" _Yeah," Addison nods. She holds up a package of chocolate bark, loaded with almonds. "This one looks good. Who's it for?"_

" _My sister Kathleen," Derek answers, smiling broadly. "She loves chocolate with almonds. And it's appropriate since she's a psychiatrist and is all kinds of nuts."_

 _Addison shakes her head in amusement. "I'm starting to think Archer got off easy with you calling him a Milk Dud. You're giving me an … interesting first impression of your sisters."_

" _But you'll see that I'm right," Derek insists. "When you meet them you'll see."_

 _Addison can't help smiling at Derek's use of the word,_ when _. Even though they've only been dating for six months, she knows Derek is special. Her relationship with Derek is the best relationship she's ever been in, and even though it's still early days, she already sees a future with him. So it's nice to know they're on the same page._

" _Who gets the Fererro Rochers?" she asks, changing the subject._

" _Oh, those are for Lizzie. She's convinced that I'm my mom's golden child, so—"_

" _Wait, are you?"_

 _Derek chuckles. "That's not important. I mean, it is to Lizzie, I guess. Which is why I give her chocolates wrapped in gold foil because … she's golden in my book."_

 _Addison smiles. "That's sweet."_

" _I'm not sure Lizzie sees it that way," Derek admits. "I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm just rubbing my so called golden status in her face."_

 _Addison chuckles. Though she has to admit hearing about Derek's Valentine's Day tradition, and the different relationships he has with each of his sisters, is making her fall even more in love with him._

" _And the giant bag of Baby Ruths is for my youngest sister, Amelia," Derek concludes. "She's the baby of a big family, so Baby Ruths make sense. Plus, they're her favorite."_

 _Addison smiles at her boyfriend adoringly._

" _What?" he chuckles, taking in his girlfriend's Cheshire cat-grin._

 _She shakes her head. "It's, uh, nothing. Just … Derek?" she whispers, moving to sit on his lap._

" _Yeah?"_

" _Thanks for telling me all this." She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply. "Thanks for letting me be a part of it."_

 _He smiles and pulls her in, kissing her passionately. "I've still got to get you something," he whispers when they break apart._

 _Addison raises an eyebrow coquettishly. "Which type of chocolate do you associate with me?"_

" _Well, dark chocolate's your favorite," Derek begins, absentmindedly running a hand through her red hair. "Chocolate so dark it's bitter."_

" _I wonder what that says about me …" Addison trails off. "That I'm bitter and not very sweet."_

" _Neither of those things are true," Derek insists, kissing her chastely. "It means you have good taste."_

" _I chose you," Addison whispers, caressing his cheek with her hand._

" _Yeah," Derek whispers back, leaning in and kissing her again._

" _But, Honey," Addison murmurs against his lips. "Chocolate's not going to be enough for me."_

" _I was going to get you other things," Derek says quickly. "I was—"_

" _That's not exactly what I had in mind," Addison admits. "I was kind of hoping we could start our own Valentine's Day tradition."_

" _Our own tradition," Derek smiles, intrigued. "Like what?"_

" _Like … you hate dancing in public …" Addison begins. "I know this about you. So, I was thinking … hoping, actually … that on Valentine's Day, you could make an exception and dance with me. In private … in public … it doesn't really matter as long as it's you and me and we're—"_

 _But he cuts hers off with a kiss. "Dance with me, Addison?"_

" _But it's not Valentine's Day yet," she whispers breathlessly._

" _Yeah, but it's our first Valentine's Day together. You get two dances this year."_

 _Addison can't help smiling. She quickly flicks on some music, and Derek wraps his arms around her as they sway to the music together._

 _She sighs contentedly, loving the feeling of dancing with Derek … having his arms around her._

" _I wish we could stay like this forever."_

" _Forever?" he asks, meeting her eyes._

 _She nods. Dancing with Derek feels comfortable. Dancing with Derek feels right. With Derek's arms around her, things like med school and midterms seem to melt away. All that matters is him and her._

" _Forever's a long time," Derek points out._

" _Yeah," Addison smiles as they continue to dance. "I know."_

...

Every year on Valentine's Day, he and Addison danced. Sometimes they went out to a restaurant and danced in public. Sometimes they danced together in the kitchen or living room or bedroom of their brownstone. And on those Valentine's Days where they were both stuck working, they danced in the hospital … in on-call rooms, their offices, and even empty ORs.

They danced every year on Valentine's Day … until they didn't. It was hard for them to dance when he didn't come home.

And now here they are on Valentine's Day … not exactly divorced, but also not together.

Their relationship is in shambles to say the least.

Most days, he's fairly certain there is no relationship. Still, he finds himself making his way back to his trailer after a long day of work, hoping for the first time in a long time that Addison would be there.

She is. And to say she looks surprised to see him would be the understatement of the century.

"I figured you'd go out somewhere nice tonight," she says, glancing down at her outfit, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

His eyes follow hers and he takes in her outfit—an old Yale sweatshirt and pajama bottoms.

He gets her message loud and clear. If she was expecting him to go out somewhere nice tonight, she certainly wasn't expecting him to take her.

"It's Valentine's Day," he says quietly. He swallows the lump that formed in his throat. "I'm not ready to spend it with anyone else."

"You're not ready? Or you don't want to?" Addison challenges, meeting his eyes.

"Addison," he sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Just like you were with me on Christmas?"

She can feel the tears stinging her eyes. She gets it. She's an obligation to him. He doesn't want to spend Valentine's Day with her. Just like he didn't want to spend Christmas with her. He's doing it because it's the husbandly thing to do. She feels herself losing her battle with her tears and closes her eyes for a moment, trying to keep her composure.

"Derek, you don't have to—"

"This isn't going to be like Christmas," he says quietly.

She nods mutely, still struggling with her tears. There's something in Derek's voice she can't quite place. A cross between sadness and regret, maybe. It both intrigues and unsettles her.

"Did you send your sisters and mother their chocolate?" she asks, purposefully redirecting the conversation to something less heavy … something she can handle.

"No." He shakes his head sadly. "Not this year."

"Oh."

She knows better than to ask why. And he knows better than to offer up some pathetic explanation.

"I got you this, though." He hands her a box of chocolate that she easily recognizes as her favorite.

"Chocolate so dark it's almost bitter," she says quietly, a sad smile playing on her face. "And now it makes sense … because I'm bitter and unkind and the farthest thing from sweet."

"Satan has a sense of humor," he rebuts, unwilling to let her start down this road. They both know she believes it. And, admittedly, on his worst days, he believes it too.

But not today. Today's different. It has to be.

"You know, I could go shopping with you for your mom and sisters," Addison offers. "And we could overnight the chocolate. They'd only get it a day late."

"No." He shakes his head. "I don't want to. Not this year."

She nods mutely, even though she doesn't understand his line of thinking.

"Do you want some wine then?" she asks. "We could share my chocolate, split a bottle of wine, and talk." She meets his eyes. "We need to talk, Derek."

Again, he shakes his head. "I don't want to talk. Not about that. Not tonight. I …" He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns on some music. "Addison, will you dance with me?"

She swallows thickly. Lately, Derek has been so intent on trying to break away from his past.

But, tonight, he wants to dance.

Dancing on Valentine's Day is _their_ tradition. It's been their tradition for as long as she's known him.

And one thing she's learned from sharing eleven-plus Valentine's Day dances with Derek is that they always make her feel better.

So she wraps her arms around him, and he wraps his arms around her, and they slowly sway to the music, dancing together in the middle of the trailer.

Dancing with Derek feels good. Hell, it feels amazing. He might hate dancing in public, but there's no doubt about it, Derek Shepherd can dance. Plus, they've always fit so perfectly together. And as he holds her in his arms, she can't help thinking that they still do.

Her breath catches in her throat when she hears him sigh contentedly. He pulls her in closer, and now they're dancing cheek to cheek. She inhales deeply and takes in the scent of what she knows is his (and her) favorite cologne. And she can't help smiling when she catches him doing the same.

When they dance together, things feel right.

Dancing with Derek used to melt away what she once believed were insurmountable things—med school, exams, long shifts. As they got older and more accomplished, dancing with Derek helped melt away bigger things—patients she couldn't save, patients he couldn't save, patients they should have been able to save, but didn't.

Now she needs it to melt away the impossible—Mark, Meredith, indifference, adultery.

It's a long shot; she knows that. But as doctors, they're supposed to believe in long shots. She certainly does. And she knows from being with Derek for eleven-plus years that he does too.

The song they're dancing to is drawing to a close; and she feels her body begin to tense up. She needs more time. The song can't end. Because when it ends and they stop dancing, she doesn't know what will happen.

But to her surprise, they keep dancing. Even when the song ends, they keep dancing.

And a new song begins to play.

"Relax," he whispers, his warm breath tickling her ear.

So she does. Or tries to, at least.

She feels him wrap his arms more securely around her waist and exhales in relief. She still has another few minutes to dance with Derek. But it's not enough.

They're supposed to have forever.

Over the years, she's imagined what dancing forever would be like. It's them swaying together—not as close as usual—to accommodate her growing belly. It's them holding each other closely, glancing every so often at their sweet baby, who's watching them contentedly. It's them dancing while their school-aged children look on, insisting upon cutting in until they finally get their way. And it's them, old and wrinkly, clinging to each other, still obviously and undeniably in love.

But never did she imagine it this way—them dancing in his trailer, their marriage hanging on by just the tiniest of threads.

The song ends. A new one begins. And they continue dancing without missing a beat.

"Addie?" Derek whispers.

"Yeah?"

"You know how you offered to go with me to buy chocolate for my mom and sisters? I was wondering … does the offer still stand?"

"Yeah," she breathes, meeting his eyes. "I love that tradition of yours. You know that."

"Ours," he corrects.

She looks at him questioningly.

"You're the only one who knows about it," he says softly. "You're the only one I want to know about it."

She can't help the smile forming on her face. "I'll go with you."

"Thanks," Derek says. "We'll go tomorrow. Right now, we're busy."

She can't argue with him there.

At some point, she stops noticing where one song ends and the next begins. She stops noticing time all together. The only thing she registers is her-and-Derek—their bodies entwined as they sway to the music together.

"Derek?" she murmurs, meeting his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

A small smile forms on his face. "Happy Valentine's Day, Addie."

"Thanks." She swallows thickly. "Um, Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"I …" But there's nothing left to say. Not with words, anyway. So she leans in and kisses him tenderly. And he kisses her back, just as tenderly, as they continue to dance.

They break apart from the kiss—but don't stop dancing—uncertainties swimming in both their eyes.

"Derek, I …"

But when he pulls her in closer, she completely forgets what she was going to say. The only thing she cares about is how good it feels to be in his arms.

If they can just stay dancing like this, she thinks they might have a chance.

But then the music ends, and her body immediately tenses. She meets his eyes questioningly.

"Let's keep dancing," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple. "We don't need music to dance."

She nods mutely as they continue to sway together.

He's right; they don't need music. And she can't help thinking about what she said to him all those years ago— _I wish we could stay like this forever._

All these years later, it still holds true … more so, even.

When they stop dancing, there's no telling what will happen. When they stop dancing, he might be indifferent or angry, or pretend she doesn't exist. When they stop dancing, they might be one step closer to divorce.

But when they're dancing, everything's okay. When they're dancing, she can't help believing they just might make it … and that maybe forever is in the cards for them after all.

So, she keeps dancing. And he keeps dancing.

 _They_ keep dancing.

And neither plans to stop any time soon.

Because they know there's a chance this could be their last dance together. And if it is, they want to make it count. And if it's not, they have a lot of lost time to make up for; and now's as good a time as any to start.

"Tired?" Derek whispers.

"No."

"Good," he smiles. "Me either."

They have a long night of dancing ahead of them, and they both know it.

Maybe they're turning a corner and better times are on the horizon. Maybe they're delaying the inevitable and the worst is yet to come.

Right now, that doesn't matter. None of it matters. Because none of it is reality.

Right now, reality is him and her—here and now—dancing together on Valentine's Day.

Her own little slice of forever.

 _I fell in love with you.  
_ _The last waltz should last forever._


End file.
